


You Broke Up With Me

by turningthepages



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 20:38:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turningthepages/pseuds/turningthepages
Summary: "Fairytales ain’t real and if they were I wouldn’t wanna have that shit. I mean who’s that happy all the damn time? If you always have sunshine coming outta your ass then where’s the passion?"





	You Broke Up With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pimento](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/gifts).



> When I saw that the theme for this exchange was Fairytales I was so excited. I love fairytales more than I can explain and I hoped that I could write something awesome however, my characters refused to do anything fairytale related and made me write this ;) 
> 
> It's loosely inspired by the song You Broke Up With Me by Walker Hayes 
> 
> This is a gift for [Pimento](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento)  
> I really hope you enjoy :)
> 
> (Rated M for language and the almost-smut)

It was everything he’d never wanted. 

White, upon white, upon white. Everything—every single thing he looked at assaulted him with the starkness of it. The roses, the fabrics, the tablecloths, his own suit and tie: every little detail was cascaded in white. 

It could have been beautiful if executed correctly. White was supposed to be sophisticated, elegant, and romantic—except here it was the wrong shade. Instead of the clean, crispness of the color of snow this white was sickly, hued in piss-colored light, tarnishing everything with the feeling of wrongness and anxiety. The same anxiety he felt as he stared in the mirror of the church’s cry room, adjusting his damned bowtie for the eightieth time. 

“Stop ruining it right after I’ve fixed it!” 

If it were possible to cling to a voice, this would be the one Dean Winchester would cling to. Every part of him wanted to grab hold of the single comfort he had at the moment and never let go, but he couldn’t do that. Not today. 

With feeble determination he looked over towards the voice speaking to him and used all his effort to hide the shakiness of his fingers as his best friend and best man, Castiel, swatted his hands away to adjust the tie once more. 

Castiel had said few words since the two of them had arrived but Dean knew there was something brewing under the other man’s skin. He could see it in the way Castiel scanned his face every few moments, undoubtedly reading Dean like a book, sensing that something wasn’t quite right. He didn’t say anything and Dean knew he wouldn’t; his friend was waiting for Dean to be the one to crack and finally allow the persistent thoughts he held in to break free. 

But Dean Winchester was stubborn as mule; he’d deflect the hell out of this situation or die trying. 

“Dude, if you could make it straight the first time I wouldn’t have to keep fixing it.” 

“Dean, it is straight and has been this whole time—though that does make it the only thing out of place in this room.” The not-quite-there wink Castiel managed had Dean crack the smallest of smiles. It wasn’t the other man’s best joke but it did its job in alleviating some of Dean’s trepidation for a fleeting moment. 

Fleeting, indeed. 

Simply looking back in the mirror to examine himself once more had him spiraling again. He looked no different than any other day even with the incandescent hue not doing him any favors, but something was undeniably off. Desperately, he caught Cas’s eye in the reflection and saw the worried frown of the person looking back at him.

He could almost hear the plea in his own voice as he turned towards his friend and whimpered, “Cas…” 

“Talk to me.” 

For years Dean had known these eyes, the eyes that encouraged him, advised him, trusted him, sometimes even scolded him but the eyes he saw right now were his favorite; these eyes calmed him, something in their gaze made him want to be caught in them forever. He couldn’t allow himself to think such thoughts anymore, especially not today. 

“Dean? Why’re you freaking out? It’s your wedding day.” 

Even Dean knew Cas’s encouraging smile was forced. He wasn’t an idiot. No matter how dutifully he initiated conversation, or how inviting and welcome he’d acted, Castiel wasn’t the biggest fan of Dean’s soon-to-be husband. Even after a year of knowing one another Castiel wore a sour face when the two were in the same room but he was still Dean’s best friend and come hell or high water, he’d stand next to Dean no matter what. 

That unwavering loyalty and those eyes that had always felt like home had Dean’s resolve crumbling with each moment that ticked by. 

“I know it’s my wedding day. I should be happy. I am. I am happy… I _think_ I’m happy. Why am I not happy?” 

“Cold feet are normal.” 

“Not you too.” Dean whined. Aching knots gripped his stomached with a renewed fervor. Not even Castiel’s steady breathing (consciously or unconsciously encouraging Dean to do the same) helped the panic inside him. 

“Everyone keeps saying it’s normal. Cold feet are _normal.”_ Dean’s voice lowered to a mockery of his friends, “ _It’s okay Dean, sometimes we get cold feet but you two are so cute together, it’s just stressful to plan a fairytale wedding.”_

Back and forth he paced the room, wringing his fingers until they felt raw. His heart couldn’t settle in his chest even as he tried to calm himself down. He was ready to throw up or cry or, or— 

“Dean, breathe.” 

In an instant he was swept into Cas’s intense gaze as his friend modeled slow, rhythmic belly breathing guiding Dean back down. It helped to sort out his wild thoughts. 

“Is it really normal to feel like you’re going to vomit all over yourself before the supposed happiest day of your life? What am I even doing? I don’t want fucking tulle and Swarovski crystals coming out of my asshole on my wedding day!” 

His heart threatened to catapult out of his chest as the truth finally poured out of him. He didn’t want any of this. Yeah sure, he guessed he wanted his fiancé to have the wedding of his dreams but the man was taking the whole ‘Prince is my last name’ thing way too seriously. There was a string quartet ready to march them down the aisle and a fucking horse drawn carriage waiting to take them to the reception venue when all was said and done. That’s not what Dean wanted on his wedding day. 

Sure fairytale weddings were cute in books but Dean’s own last name was Winchester and he wasn’t exactly throwing a rifle themed wedding (not for lack of trying). This—all of this—it just wasn’t _him._

Cold feet didn’t even begin to explain it. 

“We could always leave.” 

As gradually as he’d been drifting back into himself, Dean nearly reeled back when Cas’s words snapped him forcefully into his body. 

“What?” 

Cas’s eyes remained unwavering as he spoke calm and content as ever. “No questions asked. You say the word and we’ll walk out those doors.” 

For a moment he didn’t know if the other man was serious but those eyes never changed. He meant it; down to his core Dean knew Cas would do this without hesitation and even though something indecipherable clawed its way into Dean’s chest, desperately trying to make it’s way towards Cas…. He fought it. 

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m about to get married.” 

“Is that what you want?” 

“I’m here aren’t I?” The words sounded strained even to his own ears but he kept his resolve. He would not be the type of man to walk out on his wedding day. He wasn’t that type of guy. He was just nervous, that was all. Cold feet. 

Really fucking frigidly cold feet. 

“Damnit Cas! As my best man aren’t you supposed to be keeping me from bailing?” 

“Perhaps,” Cas agreed nonchalantly, “but as your best friend I’m here to make sure you’re doing this for the right reasons. If you’re having second thoughts or don’t want to do this, I’m not going to force you to walk down that aisle.” 

“I have to.” 

“You don’t.” 

“Cas…” 

“Forget about the crystals and the roses and the orchestra and ask yourself: do you want to marry him? Do you want to spend the rest of your life with him? If you do, then that’s what you will do. I’ll fix your bowtie one last time and we’ll go out there so you can start the rest of your life with him. But, Dean, if there is any part of you that knows you shouldn’t do this, that feels he’s not the one you want for life then all you have to do is say the word and I’ll get you out of here. This is your future Dean, don’t do something just because you feel you’re obligated to. _You_ of all people deserve to have the happiest of lives.” 

He allowed himself time to process but didn’t once look away from Cas’s stare. He knew what he needed to do. The darkness that weighed in his gut as Castiel brought his future into light told him everything he’d already known. This was a mistake. He couldn’t do it. He’d wanted to find love and a family so badly he’d gotten sucked into this fantasy romance where he convinced himself he was happy. 

His relationship was a sham; they looked attractive together, the sex was good, but there was nothing there. Dean didn’t laugh with his fiancé nearly as much as the way he did with Cas. Hell, he didn’t even trust him the way he trusted Cas. And when Dean really allowed himself to think about it, he didn’t feel anything for this man the way he did with Cas. 

There was no way he could go through with this wedding. 

Castiel remained patient as the words stuck in Dean’s throat but even without words, Castiel knew—he always knew. All of his friend’s features softened in understanding and the gentle touch to Dean’s arm said everything that Cas’s lips didn’t— _it’s okay._

The stress, fear, and doubts locked up in Dean’s chest immediately disintegrated as his best friend started gathering their things. Despite how much Dean wanted to get out of there, there wasn’t any franticness to their movements as much as there was urgency to be gone before someone came looking. That’s why when the door to the room flung open Dean and Cas froze in place like disobedient children. 

Dean’s younger brother Sam look harried and frazzled, scanning the room as he stumbled in until his wild eyes met Dean’s. 

“Sammy? What’s wrong?” 

Dean tried not to let his thoughts run out of control but the look on Sam’s face instantly put him into panic mode. The worst was running through his mind—images of their mother suffering a heart attack, or Uncle Bobby dead somewhere in the church—none of it was what actually came out of Sam’s mouth. 

“He—he just left.” 

The thrumming in his ears made it hard for him to understand his brother. When he finally did register what Sam had said, Dean couldn’t figure out who the ‘he’ Sam was talking about, still too caught up in panicking over the demise of all his family members. It took him much longer than he was proud of to realize Sam meant his fiancé. 

His fiancé had left. 

“What do you mean?” Dean asked cautiously, not allowing himself to be hopeful yet. 

“He got a phone call and then—some guy on a motorcycle showed up and he just—he just left with him.” 

“What guy?” 

It spoke volumes that Sam was unnervingly the most panicked one in the room at the moment, unaware that Dean himself had almost tucked tail and ran seconds before he’d walked in. 

“I don’t know some Sons of Anarchy type guy—old, grey hair, with Knights of Hell written on the back of his jacket.” 

“So I’m not getting married today?” 

“No. He’s long gone. Dean, I’m so sorry.” 

He knew he ought to be mortified by the situation, who knew which of his family members had seen his fiancé—ex-fiancé, leave him for another man…. but he couldn’t help but think that some knight in shining leather chaps had just saved him from making the worst mistake of his life. 

Wide eyed he turned to Cas, not knowing what to say. He knew the other man must’ve been feeling similar levels of relief as Dean was but that relief didn’t show on his face. Instead Dean watched as a murderous, enraged look dissipated from Cas’s eyes and morphed into an undeniably horrified one. 

“What?” Dean asked cautiously, already dreading what Cas might say. 

“Do you want me to tell everyone or do you?” 

“Son of a bitch!”

* * *

* * *

They were in the middle of the dance floor alone, apart from two couples dancing along to the music. For someone who usually didn’t enjoy having attention drawn to him Dean didn’t seem to mind right then as he swayed back and forth sipping on his fourth rum and coke of the hour. His eyes closed as he hummed along to a song that wasn’t even playing and Cas couldn’t help but smile at the weirdo he called his best friend. 

“Are you humming Dirty Dancing?” 

A gummy smile pulled at Cas’s cheeks as Dean opened his eyes and grinned. Outwardly Castiel always tried to fight a reaction to the way Dean looked at him but each and every time he lost that battle and basked in the feeling of being on the receiving end of one of his friend’s joyful expression. He’d give anything to keep that look on Dean’s face forever. 

“It’s called Time of My Life and Swayze always gets a pass.” 

He didn’t argue as Dean started singing the words to the song in his mind syncopating with the rhythm of the actual song playing. Without a care in the world Dean started moving to the beat of his own tune, doing his best attempt at recreating the moves to the movie scene. He looked like an idiot, a beautiful, incredible idiot and Cas didn’t hesitate to move right along with him when Dean held out his hand. 

With Dean silently determining that Castiel was Baby Houseman, he was helpless to do anything but twirl under his friend’s arms when given the cue. “You’re so drunk right now,” Cas chuckled, not giving a damn that the other bar patrons were pointing at laughing at them. 

“I’m not drunk, I’m amazing.” 

He had to turn down Dean’s insistence that they attempt the jump and lift, much to Dean’s chagrin but the dancing didn’t stop. Seeing Dean so carefree like this had always been Castiel’s favorite. To watch the crinkles around Dean’s eyes as he laughed at his own words, there was nothing like it and no way Castiel could deny for one moment how amazing Dean was. 

Especially now, five months since Prince Joffrey had ran out on the wedding, Castiel had never seen his best friend so damned happy. 

He wondered at first how things would turn out, if Dean would regret what happened that day. Aside from the two weeks immediately following the big ordeal where he and Dean had spent days addressing return packages and making trips to the former guests to return gifts, Dean hadn’t so much as mentioned being anything more than relieved that it was all over. 

And as much as Castiel hates Dean’s ex for walking out on him, he’s relieved that it all worked out the way it did. Instead of Dean being the one ridiculed for having ran out of the church on the day of their nuptials (which he was admittedly about to do), Dean’s the one that people check in on and reassure is ‘too good’ for someone like ‘that boy.’ It’s the best outcome Castiel could have imagined from the shit show that would have been that marriage. 

And selfishly he’s glad to have Dean all to himself these days. 

“This drink, I like it! Another!” A wave of a dramatic arm throwing its cup towards the ground had Castiel rolling his eyes while Dean laughed his ass off. He vowed to never let his friend live this down as he reveled in the _‘I’m not a lightweight, you are’_ drinks they’d had before coming to the bar finally catching up with the other man. 

“After you, your Highness.” He said dramatically, earning himself a poke to the cheek. 

“ _No. Nooo._ Not anybody’s Highness.” 

“I didn’t think you wanted anyone to call you Handmaiden anymore?” 

“Fuck you.” 

Castiel almost wanted to tell Dean that he looked more like a scolded kitten than anything as his friend attempted to glare at him but he decided there were some battles he’d let Dean believe he’d won. Ignoring the man-sized child, Cas made his way back to the bar with Dean teetering after him, both making it a point to try and avoid the withering look from Dean’s aunt Ellen as she poured them both another round. 

With a clank of his glass on the counter Dean moved to rest his chin on his hand and stared at Cas with large doe eyes. “Cas? Do you believe in fairytales?” 

The similarities of his voice to that of a young child made Cas’s cheeks tight with a grin. “As in do I believe that they are stories that have been written and published for people to read? Then yes I believe in them.” 

“No. Dumbass. Like true love, happily ever after, and all that soul mate garbage?” 

“Perhaps not the way Disney presents it, no.” Though he couldn’t blame Dean for his vehement distaste towards fairytales, Castiel answered honestly, “but I’d like to believe there is someone out there for each of us who complements us in a way few others would; someone who with commitment and trust and love we can share our lives with, happily.” 

“They’re just so… stupid. You know?” Dean cut in, trampling over Cas’s answer. “Fairytales ain’t real and if they were I wouldn’t wanna have that shit. I mean who’s that happy all the damn time? If you always have sunshine coming outta your ass then where’s the passion? Where’s the screaming fights or the makeup sex or the I-need-you-so-bad-lets-fuck-on-the-kitchen-floor? You know what kind of sex fairytales have?” 

“None?” 

“I was gonna say boring mission…mish-nary…you know what I mean… but you’re more right.” 

He could see Dean’s point—princes, princesses, magic spells, talking animals—none of it truly reflected the rawness of real life but he could also see the appeal for so many people. 

“It is a nice concept,” Cas admitted softly, “living happily ever after.” 

“Maybe. But I want something _real_ and real life don’t always end happy.” 

He knew without asking that Dean was referring to his mother but the guarded look in Dean’s eyes made him not press for more. 

It pained him to think his friend didn’t see himself having a happy ending. He understood life held no guarantees and things could change for the worse at the drop of a hat, but for someone as kind, giving, loyal, and strong as Dean Winchester, Castiel was optimistic that his future would hold all the happiness he deserved. 

“You’re right, it doesn’t always, but it does have happiness in it. Perhaps life won’t turn out the way we envision but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive to be happy for the duration of it when we can.” 

“So you do believe in fairytales?” 

“I believe in love and that the effort you put towards your relationship will determine how happy you end up.” He allowed himself a secret smile, thinking about his hopes for his own future. “And… I wouldn’t be object to living happily ever after with my partner either.”

For a moment Castiel swore he detected something in the way Dean’s eyes locked with his but before he could name it Dean shook the fog from his brain with a cough, “You sap.” 

“Hey, you asked.” 

“Yeah but didn’t think you’d go all Drew Barrymore on me.” 

“Drew Barrymore?” 

“Shut up, I couldn’t think of anyone else.” 

They bumped shoulders as they laughed, leaving a contented feeling in Cas’s chest. Even if he could never have Dean in the way he wanted, having this friendship, a friend who smiled at him so brightly and laughed with him so heartily was enough to leave him warm to the core. 

Dean Winchester becoming his best friend, his favorite person in life, had been a surprise to say the least. Especially when they met five years ago and Dean hated Castiel with a passion. Apparently stray dogs running into the road were not valid reasons for why Cas sideswiped Dean’s Baby—his impeccable 1967 Chevy Impala. 

It wouldn’t have mattered much to be hated by a random stranger but Dean turned out to not be so random. Soon after the accident they realized that Cas happened to work at the same law firm as, and was friends with, Dean’s brother Sam. But somewhere between the snarky comments and the fact that Castiel paid for all of Dean’s repairs led to a tentative friendship and ultimately, a real one. Castiel couldn’t be more grateful to that stray dog—he’d probably even give that very same (now adopted) mutt an extra treat tonight just because of it. 

When Dean yawned at his side Cas knew the night was likely coming to an end despite how much he wanted to stay. “You ready to go home?” He asked gently, hoping that Dean wouldn’t say yes. 

“Nooo, wanna dance some more.” It was _almost_ endearing hearing Dean whine as he slid off his stool and tugged Cas’s sleeve forcing him towards the dance floor. “Dance with me?” 

As if Castiel could refuse. “If you insist.” 

“I do.” 

It took only two steps to get them back on the dance floor where more people had started to gather as the nightlife finally picked up. This time Dean’s dancing moved in time to the beat reeling Cas in with the sway of his hips. 

The indescribable feeling of Dean’s arms around his shoulders had Cas’s heart thumping in his chest and him completely melting into the touch. The rarity of having Dean so close like this made the moment all the more important. As long as he’d known him, Dean had always been more tactile while drunk, leaning into his friends, patting them on their shoulders, touching their arms as he spoke but this was different; it felt special. With Dean’s head moving to rest on his shoulder as they swayed back and forth, Castiel was certain he was living in a dream. 

He would have been content to stay like that all night if it weren’t for a rough tap on his shoulder and a petulant, “Seriously?” 

With Dean still draped on him Cas turned towards the assbutt interrupting his moment only to feel his face turn sour as he saw who stood before him. “What are you doing here?” 

The huffy look from a man Castiel vaguely remembers being named Chase stood before him though it was the face beside him, of Dean’s ex-fiancé, glaring at them that had Cas seeing red. Half expecting the evil Prince to say _something_ Castiel dawned his most lethal scowl while Dean shifted out of Cas’s hold and moved fractionally away, standing stiff at his side. Both men stared at the two others in their presence waiting for one of them to speak. 

Cas already had a slew of questions swirling through his mind, primarily _‘What the hell do you want?’_ but didn’t have the chance to say anything as the two younger boys exchanged odd glances. 

It was the ex’s friend who happened to speak with his grating voice. 

“Could you at least _try_ not to parade your relationship around him? Can’t you see he’s upset?” 

“What?” Dean asked with an unreadable expression. Cas waited for his friend to look at him, to clue him in on what the hell he was supposed to do but he never did. Instead Dean stared down his ex while the friend spoke again. 

“Look, we just came here to talk. It’s been a while and he just wanted to finally get the chance to say he’s sorry and talk everything out _but,_ ” he exclaimed dramatically, “we showed up here and saw you two like _that_ and—it’s just hard for him to see you moving on so soon after everything. Now you’re just flaunting it.” 

Castiel’s patience hadn’t even attempted to show up to this conversation. “Pardon me but did he lose his vocal chords? Why exactly are you speaking for him?” 

“It’s just too hard for him, to see you both like this.” 

He wanted to ask if they were being ‘Punked’ but didn’t know if their delicate sensibilities could handle it. He was half-convinced the situation happening was a hallucination, the result of too much alcohol consumption, yet he’d drank a fraction of what Dean had and could probably only be described as tipsy at best. What he was certain on was how badly he wanted get the other men out of the bar as soon as possible. 

He’d hoped Dean would say something but looking over at his best friend he could tell the other man was seeing red—probably ready for some kind of fight. As a precaution Cas took a step between the two parties but couldn’t keep Dean from angrily speaking (not that he wanted to stop him). 

“You’re actually serious right now? Are you both twelve? You’re in _our_ family’s bar and you, what? Expected to see me moping over someone who left months ago?” 

The heat in Dean’s voice was undeniable but it didn’t make Chase—Jace maybe—cower back. He sounded snappish as ever. 

“He just wanted to talk.” 

“And?” 

“He—he’s been wanting to apologize for everything and to talk about what you two are now.” 

“Again, and?” 

“And then we saw you all over… him. It’s—it’s just not very classy.” 

The sound of silverware scraping across glass would have been more appealing than engaging in this conversation and Castiel was officially done. 

“Classy? You wanna know what’s not ‘classy’? Getting on the back of a motorcycle with a man three times your age on your _wedding_ day. You didn’t come here to ‘talk,’ you came here to ‘start drama’ like the teenagers you’ve never grown out of being. I’m going to advice you to rethink your life choices and not come back here again. The door is over there, don’t let the handle smack you on your rear as you walk out.” 

Chase-Jace—Chauncey?—sputtered, looking quite crimson now. “We have every right to be here as you do.” 

“Oh like fuck you do.” 

There was venom in Dean’s voice, finally earning the appropriate reaction from the younger men. 

“Fine! Whatever! We’re going. But just so you know... He’s never gonna take you back.” 

Castiel couldn’t conceal his bark of laughter. “What ever will he do? Find someone who cares for him the way he deserves? Inconceivable!” 

Dean’s ex had yet to say a word and still continued to let what’s-his-name speak for him. It was sad. Enough so that Cas _almost_ pitied these two boys who seemed incapable of maturing—that is until Prince’s lackey tried to kick him where it hurts. 

“Wow, you really are so pathetically in love with him... it’s sad.” 

He could feel himself pale as the words flung out of the other man’s mouth. 

At that moment he was beyond grateful Dean hadn’t married into this—more grateful than he’d even been before. 

Each day leading up to their wedding Cas had prayed to all things in high heaven that it wouldn’t actually happen, that Dean wouldn’t marry a man so immature. A man—a _boy_ who refused to allow Sam to be Dean’s best man—who cried fat, heated tears when Dean couldn’t seem to understand how the symmetry of the wedding party wouldn’t work if Dean, Sam, _and_ Castiel all stood to one side of the alter—who demanded that Sam act as his best man instead since he didn’t actually have any true friends (any friends at all really—he’d only just become ‘good friends’ with Chase-Jace-whoever-the-hell before the wedding). 

Personal feelings aside, Castiel knew Dean could do so much better and even now he hoped that someday someone would come along to show Dean just how incredible he was, even if that someone wasn’t him. He never planned to fall for Dean—who ever made plans to fall in love with their best friend? It just happened. Getting to know him, spending time with him, being welcomed into Dean’s world had all been a part of their friendship but somewhere along the way Castiel had fallen and he couldn’t go back. 

He never said anything because he didn’t see the point. Dean never seemed scared to go for what he wanted so when Dean never gave any hints towards wanting Cas in return, it just seemed easier to not say anything at all. 

He believed he’d never been obvious with his feelings yet somehow the snarky-sidekick had figured it out or Lord Farquaad had more brain cells than Castiel initially assumed. Regardless, the two boys presumed they’d gotten the last word as their twin smirks stared right at Castiel. Despite the knot in his belly Cas didn’t cower to them. 

“Maybe I am, but you know what’s even sadder? Walking out on the greatest man you could ever know then coming around months after the fact and throwing a tantrum when you realized he’s moved on and has long since forgotten to miss you.” He turned to Dean’s ex to finally address him. 

“You’re the one who ‘fucked up’ here. Not me. You made your bed and didn’t want Dean in it like the complete imbecile you are and I’m sure you’re just now realizing it was the biggest mistake of your life. I implore you to enjoy living with that knowledge.”

His heart hammered in his chest as his brain tried to talk him down from the fight he was ready to have. Dean’s ex didn’t even twitch; instead he looked to his friend and said, “Let’s go.” 

Cas didn’t move from his spot, nor did he stop staring at the front door until he was certain that the two had left. 

He’d nearly forgotten Dean was beside him until he heard his friend’s voice. 

“Cas?” 

Hearing his name finally allowed him to release the breath he was holding, huffing out his frustration he looked towards the person who had more of a right to be pissed off than he did. “What gave them the nerve to show up here? What did they expect would happen?” 

He’d expected Dean to be fuming as well, ranting and raving about why his ex had no business showing up like that but Dean didn’t make a sound. Instead he looked shell-shocked, scanning Cas’s face like a maniac. It filled Cas with worry. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Did you mean it?” 

“Did I mean what?” Cas asked slowly, trying to remember what the hell he’d even said just moments ago. “What I said to him? Of course I meant it. He’s always been undeserving of you but if he thinks that he has any right to just parade in here and act like he deserves to have you back then he’s even more inane than I thought.” 

“Not that.” 

“Then what?” 

“Are you—do you… are you in love with me?” 

Every escape route for this question Castiel had carefully constructed over the years seemed to have suddenly locked him in. Somehow he knew if he didn’t answer honestly Dean would know instantly. 

He felt backed into a corner knowing there was no way out of answering this, not after the practical monologue he’d just delivered in front of the nosy bar patrons. The only thing left for him to do was to admit it even if it came out as a weak whimper of, “Yes.” 

“How long?” 

What was the point in lying now? He’d never been very talented at lying to his friend in the first place. 

“The night we first came here as friends—after… after you decided you didn’t hate me anymore.” 

“That was… that was four years ago.” The look in Dean’s eyes was indecipherable. Cas wasn’t sure if Dean was ready to punch him or kick him in the balls. All he knew was that Dean didn’t look particularly happy. 

“I know… But it doesn’t change anything okay? I’m still your friend and we can go on as normal. So just don’t think about it. Does that work for you?” 

“Just don’t think about it?” Right then Cas knew Dean was pissed. He took a small step backwards, hoping his friend didn’t actually hit him for this confession. It wasn’t like Dean was straight (obviously) but… but maybe knowing Cas had feelings for him made things weird? “You’re telling me I could’a had you four years ago and I’m only learning about this now?” 

“Yes?” 

It wasn’t entirely clear how he ended up on his ass on the ground with Dean’s tongue in his mouth but none of that mattered due to the fact that Dean was kissing him. It was hungry and frantic and probably the messiest kiss Castiel had ever had in his life but he never wanted it to end. 

His fist was wrapped in the front of Dean’s shirt like Cas had been prepared to stave off a punch but now he could use the leverage to keep Dean from pulling away. 

“Dean,” he heard himself moan as his friend settled on top of his lap. 

A rush of pain hit his shoulder again and again before Cas reluctantly pulled away from Dean’s mouth only to see Ellen ready to whip a dishtowel at them again. 

“This is not a brothel! You take this home or I will call the cops on you, family or not.” 

Looking around Cas finally registered the dozens of other people looking at them like they were about to put on the worlds more unwanted porno and he knew he didn’t want to test to see if Ellen’s threat was a bluff. 

With great effort he hauled himself and Dean off the floor and pulled him towards the door only to be stopped by an indignant huff of, “Keys!” 

Ellen’s palm stuck out and matched her reproaching look. The two men knew they’d hear about this endlessly for weeks. 

“What? How will we get home?” Dean whined, finally finding his voice. 

“Call a ride. You ain’t driving.” 

Sober enough to manage, Castiel did just that and yanked Dean out to the curb to wait. It took entirely too long for their ride to show up but that just meant Cas got more time to make out with Dean in front of the bar until their driver started honking at them impatiently. 

Once they were home, all bets were off. Dean was up against the door in two second flat and Castiel did his best to get his hands on every inch of Dean’s body. 

“Oh fuck. Get your clothes off. Hurry.” 

They tripped over each other in their haste to get to the bedroom and before he knew it his own back was pressed up against the wall and Dean’s mouth was hot against his throat until it started to trail down his torso. Cas groaned so hard he felt his eyes roll into his head. He was undeniably, _wholly_ unprepared to see Dean on his knees before him. Not even all the solo sessions he’d engaged in over the years could prepare him for the sight of his best friend, the man he loved above all others, ready and eager to suck his cock. 

“Damnit Cas, help me.” 

They scrambled to undo his belt and before he knew it Dean was yanking his pants down to his ankles. Cas’s mind whirled with arousal, not really believing this was happening. He’d wanted this so intensely for so long that finally getting it felt surreal—except when Dean’s mouth didn’t end up on his dick but instead was saying, “Oh, fuck, I think I’m gonna puke.” 

“Because I’m naked?” 

“Too much coke in my rum…” 

Dean hardly made it onto his feet and into the adjoining bathroom before Castiel heard violent retching sounds. 

Quickly, he managed to pull on his discarded boxers and made his way into the bathroom, sitting on the tile behind his friend—boyfriend, lover?—to rub his back.

“This isn’t sexy.” 

With Dean’s cheek resting on the toilet seat, that may or may not have been sanitized in a while, Cas felt it necessary to say, “You’re absolutely correct.” 

“You really want this?” 

“Not so much currently…” 

“Hey!” 

“You asked.” 

Cas knew Dean heard the teasing in his voice when his friend gave him a small, exhausted smile before groaning at his discomfort. “I’m dying.” 

“You’re not but you’ll most likely feel like it tomorrow.” 

“I just won’t wake up—problem solved.” 

“I might have to resort to ‘True Love’s Kiss’ to wake you.” 

“Gross. You’re disgusting. I take everything back.” He didn’t know how he found it so enduring to see Dean half asleep on his toilet seat but he wagered it had something to do with being in love with him. 

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” 

There wasn’t an ounce of protest as Cas pulled Dean to his feet, shoved a Dixie cup of mouthwash in his face, and stripped him to his boxers before settling him into bed. Immediately Dean hauled the blankets up to his chin and snuggled. “Mmm. Smells like you.” 

Cas wanted to kiss him so bad again but wanted to be horizontal more so he took to getting ready for bed as quickly as possible. 

Dean folded into his arms the moment Cas was settled and he knew instantly he couldn’t go without that feeling ever again. 

“I’m sorry for… that.” His love said with a vague gesture towards the bathroom. Cas shrugged and ran his fingers through his soft brown hair. 

“I don’t mind.” 

“Why’re you so good to me?” 

“You deserve it.” 

He hoped when Dean sobered up in the morning he’d still feel the same way and though something deep down told him that Dean would, it didn’t fully stop the feeling of uncertainty swirling through his chest. 

Not until Dean pressed the softest of kisses to his jaw line. “Don’t ever change.” 

“Okay.” 

“Stay with me?” Dean asked preciously, seemingly unaware that his arms and legs were already tangled with Cas’s. 

As if Cas could tear himself away from this, even for a moment. 

“Of course.” 

The room quieted for a moment only filled with the sounds of the fan and their gentle breathing; he almost missed the sound of Dean quietly whispering his name. 

“Yes, Dean?” 

“I love you too.” 

It definitely wasn’t a fairytale. It was better. It was real.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> <3 Paige
> 
>  
> 
> If you liked this here are some others you can check out if you want: 
> 
> Past Exchange:  
> [Underneath the Tree](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17179940)
> 
> More Friends to Lovers:  
> [Sleep Without You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775289/chapters/23899212)  
> [Don’t You Wanna Stay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634991)


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